


The Queens Next Door and I'm Not Talking About Mycroft

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Watson's Woes [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Retirement, Retirementlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson's Woes, Prompt #2: From A to Z: Use at least two of the following words: abdicate, automaton, allele, Zarathustra, zither.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queens Next Door and I'm Not Talking About Mycroft

Sherlock leaned over the kitchen sink and glared into the yard, at the white painted, wooden beehive. What had he been thinking, abdicating his role as consulting detective to retire? He’d planned on writing such a detailed, instructive book on his methods that even an automaton could have solved crimes but only John was getting any writing done. Sherlock had might as well of taken up the zither; he couldn’t even raise bees.

They’d moved into the house and fixed it up for their needs, including a laboratory and a small room for Doctor Watson to ply his trade. John had insisted on the space, probably thinking he’d only have one patient to worry about, but already locals were coming. Part of it was a curiosity that would have died down after a while, but John was just so interesting, nice, and competent that they kept coming back. 

Meanwhile, none of them had bothered to mention you needed to order bees in January if you planned on installing them in April. Sherlock had set up his hives in late May, only to find he’d have to wait another year for bees. That had made him feel about an allele away from being as stupid as Anderson. 

If it wasn’t for how happy John seemed here, Sherlock would have come out of retirement in a heartbeat. What really made the sentiment well up in Sherlock was the idea that John would leave here, return to London; do anything to make Sherlock happy. John was adaptable and could learn to fit into any life that challenged him. Sherlock wished he would always be that challenge for John, but that was as likely as bees spontaneously entering his hive. 

Snorting, Sherlock took another look at the hive, and noticed it was crawling with little black dots. Grabbing the binoculars, he could see enough to know it was bees. A swarm of bees had found his little hive and he might be able to start studying them after all. Flooded with excitement, Sherlock called for John. 

“John, thus spoke Zarathustra!” The house was big enough that John wouldn’t be able to hear exactly what Sherlock shouted, so Sherlock took the opportunity to yell random things. 

There came a muffled reply, which was bound to be John yelling ‘what, hold on, I’m coming’ and then John would be here in about a minute. He was very quick when he was worried, and he’d noticed Sherlock’s decreasing mood. As he slipped into the kitchen, Sherlock grabbed his arm and dragged him out the backdoor. Once there he thrust the binoculars at John and started talking. 

“When a hive has two queens or gets overcrowded, the bees and one queen leave in a swarm. One has found our hive. I don’t think we’ll get honey this late in the year, as they’ll be building honeycomb and raising young, but we’ll have bees. I want to go watch them, see how they choose a new hive, and what’s the first thing they will do when they decide to move in?” The hand on his chest made Sherlock aware that he was starting to walk forward. 

“If you get much closer, those bees might be scared off. Let this first group settle and you’ll have next year’s bees to examine that closely.” 

The bees were only scouting the location, so it was good advice. Still, Sherlock was almost dancing in place as he waited for them to make up their little bee minds. Slowly, more bees began landing, moving into the entrance and Sherlock didn’t see any fly back out. He let out a triumphant shout, knowing the bees had accepted his hive, and hugged John to him. Maybe this retirement thing would work out after all, if the gods he didn’t believe in, and the John he did, kept smiling at him. 


End file.
